


Twelve Days of Moicy 2018

by HackedTig



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Snowfall, Twelve Days of Moicy, christmas 2018, prompt fics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 09:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16992492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HackedTig/pseuds/HackedTig
Summary: On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me… wait, this can’t possibly be that sweet. Here’s another collection of Moicy One-Shots for the holiday season!





	Twelve Days of Moicy 2018

The air was violently cold, but it was a numb feeling to the likes of Angela Ziegler. Too used to the snow to care if it crunched under her feet, too damaged to feel it even if she did. Even the snowflakes she could feel gently falling onto her hair and skin did anything to shake her. The only light she could see at this time of night was the glow of her cigarette. She tried again and again to toss them to the side for others sake, but more memories were attached to the damn cancer stick than she would have liked.

Not like the cancer part was any of her concern. 

In the comfort of her home Angela relaxed in a tank top and capris, a bold move for living in Switzerland. Her scars glittered by the light of her cigarette. 

Now that was something to be ashamed of. 

She shut her eyes, leaning against the rail of her balcony. A feeling was heavy in her chest, pushing up and up. There hasn’t been time to cry in quite a while, so she remembered. But she still didn’t let it out. Squeezing her eyes shut and holding the water works at bay, a noise perked her ears. She heard it, but didn’t care. If whoever it was, a friendly neighbor or a robber out to kill her, it wouldn’t matter.

Really, it wouldn’t. She’d just be resurrected like last time.

The thoughts came and swam and at last she dropped her cigarette off the balcony, losing her only source of light. Her fist slammed on the rail, and she let out a rather disturbed wail. Vaguely, her voice made a name, and with it she started crying. 

Finally, the door behind her opened, she couldn’t find it in herself to face her fate. Yet it had other plans. 

A slender, smooth hand tugged on her shoulder, making her turn around gently. She looked, eyes blurred by tears, but she looked. Up at the woman that caused her so much pain through the years, backlit now by a turned on bedroom light. Though her expression was typically sharp, it appeared softened by age and the dim light. A small, half attempt of a smile was on her face, a very common expression Angela could never forget. 

“Moira…” she whispered, reaching up and touching her face, lining underneath her pale blue eye. 

The smile stretched a little more, just by a slight. “Sorry, Angel. I’m back” 

A myriad of emotions welled in Angela, bringing her tears full force into the night air, freezing on her face and burning her eyes. A dream, a nightmare, a paralysis trip all at once. The one emotion that did fill Angela’s heart the most was relief. “So you are…” 

Moira cupped Angela’s face with a chilled hand, a little warmer though than Angela’s own skin. “You’re freezing out here.” She said, only a little annoyed. “Your spine is going to be beyond help if you stay like this, you know” a gentle tug on her shoulder, the snow started to fall harder, almost as if it was a queue. Moira pulled her inside, finally, and all the numbness that had filed her until now gave way to burning warmth. A warmth she hadn’t felt in years. 

That was just how Moira O’Deorain affected people. Most of all, Angela Ziegler.


End file.
